


Spectrum

by junkerjam (MageRightsActivist)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Frustration, I will add more as I write, Implied Reaper76, Implied Zaryamei, LOTS of implied relationships, M/M, PTSD, Soulmates AU, colourblind au, implied Pharmercy, implied anahardt - Freeform, implied roadrat but mostly platonic, insecure mccree, longfic, mostly the big ships, shimada brothers feels, where Hanzo moves fast and McCree moves slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:14:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9793922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageRightsActivist/pseuds/junkerjam
Summary: The story of one Hanzo Shimada's induction into Overwatch, and how McCree learns to trust himself again."He was high up in the sky, and Jesse was buried beneath the ground."





	1. You go fast, I go slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello everyone!! I’ve abandoned a lot of stuff recently. Mostly because I had no time in my final year of uni – and I fell extremely ill towards the end of 2015. So, I deleted a lot of works that I do not plan on finishing. But now I’ve finished with uni and have so much spare time on my hands I can finally crack on with some of this. Without further ado here is the first chapter of a McHanzo fic I promised around 6 months ago. This is much longer than my usual work. I want this to be indicative of the sort of quality to expect from me in the future. Enjoy!  
> !! If you can't read the chat conversations in this fic for any reason you can find a transcript of them here: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9793910 !!

A young man sat on his porch, the fresh spring breeze moved through his ebony hair as he released a breath he did not realize he had been holding. The wood was warm beneath his folded legs. It was his sixteenth birthday and the color had finally faded from his life. No longer could he look out across the garden at the cherry trees and indulge in the soft tones of peach, pink and white; like millions of tiny chiffon pieces floating softly to the ground. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would never experience it again. No more scenes of pastel snow covering the well-kept castle and grounds; a pleasing contrast to the spring sky. This year the wind felt colder than before.  
  
Another boy joins him, sitting down with his full weight and inhaling deeply.  
  
“Isn’t the air great today, brother?” he asks, cheerfully. “The _sakura_ are beautiful!”  
  
His sibling frowns, and does not acknowledge the other.  
  
“Hey, don’t look so down…” the younger boy sounds put-out, reaching over to clap him on the shoulder. “You will see it again, I bet soon for sure!”  
  
“Genji, stop.”  
  
His voice was harsh, the disappointment evident through the tone.  
  
“Hanzō…” Genji removed his hand, three years his brother’s junior he was still full of optimism, his life played out in color. “Is it really so bad…?”  
  
Hanzo whipped his head around angrily, but all venom died in his throat at the sad expression on his brother’s face. Despite his frustration and distaste for the other’s endlessly sunny outlook on life he knew that his own misgivings had nothing to do with him.  
  
“It is… bearable.” This response did little to cheer the other. “My concern is for my aim. How can I manage a bow like this?”  
  
Genji laughed at his side.  
  
“Your aim _aniki_? Only you could be so upset about something so… practical.”  
  
“And there are other things I should be concerned about regarding this?”  
  
“I don’t know, I thought you were worried about finding someone who loved you.”  
  
At this Hanzo’s lips tugged into a tight smile. He felt the chapped skin crack slightly under the strain, it was not unpleasant.  
  
“Yes, well. I think perhaps I have come to terms with that already.”  
  
The conversation dissolved into comfortable silence. It was easy for him to rationalize and compartmentalize such things, and despite the greyscale that now encompassed him, Hanzo was content.

* * *

 

Waking with a start, Hanzo shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Why had he dreamed of that memory now? It had been months since Genji had interrupted him on the estate in Hanamura. His words about redemption had struck deeper than the shock of his survival. A thumb trailed absentmindedly over his tattoo.  
  
_“Hm, the gold is well maintained. Unfortunate about the grey hairs though.”  
  
_ Genji had known the color, so he had met _them._ The person who loved him unconditionally. The thought of that both chilled and excited Hanzo for reasons he couldn’t comprehend.  
  
The plane was cramped, and the _hakama_ he was wearing to cover his legs were creasing uncomfortably. Travelling on public transport was not unusual to him by now. After leaving the _Shimada-gumi_ a little over ten years ago, this sort of travel was the safest. Plenty of witnesses and crowds to hide in. It was partly because of these habits that Hanzo had resigned himself to a life in black and white. If he hadn’t come across anyone in all his travels, he most probably never would.  
  
Not that he didn’t desire it.  
  
As children grew older they began to lose their color vision. Many said it was a visual representation of the cynicism and hardships of adult life. There were very few who hadn’t lost it entirely by their sixteenth birthday. Certain events could spark color into being - the birth of a child, or the marriage of a loved one - but these instances were short-lived. To truly regain the ability to see color, one must meet a person who will love them unashamedly – their soulmate.  
  
Sometimes this occurs slowly, a lover transforms into the love of your life and slowly you will begin to see hues together again. In the movies, when a character meets them the world bursts into life all around them at once. This was rare; to meet someone whom you share that kind of connection with without ever speaking to them before.  
  
There were many people who believed that such a person exists for everyone. There were many who did not. Hanzo fell into the latter category.  
  
The nausea in his stomach was easy to blame on the plane’s decent as they landed in Gibraltar international airport. The first thing he noticed upon disembarking was the sticky heat. The second was a nervous looking passenger who had been shooting him glances throughout the flight.  
Someone who recognized him, possibly. Far too nervous for an assassin.  
  
It had been over a year since the last attempt on his life - the encounter with Genji notwithstanding. Either they were beginning to ignore him, or he was getting better at hiding. He decided to attribute it to a little of both.  
  
The archer was still undecided as to his position when it came to Overwatch. His brother spoke highly of the organization in his correspondence - mentioned the friends he had made and the old faces that he had been reunited with. Their group was diverse, but they apparently lacked someone with a tactical mind and a sniper would add versatility to their already interesting set of abilities. Hanzo did not think of himself as such. Tactical perhaps, but his forte was mid-range combat with his bow, and martial arts at close range when necessary.  
  
Still, this could be the push he required to regain some direction in his life. The decision was made. He would test the waters, spend some time with the members and see if this life would suit him. It would make a difference from living alone. Taking his phone from his bag, he frowned at the screen. The sun blared down on him and between the light and his sunglasses he could not see a thing. He stepped inside a nearby store front and turned the brightness right up. He could just hear Genji chiding him when they were children. _Why don’t you just leave it on auto-adjust?_ Hanzo liked control in his life, and the automatic light detection usually left the screen unnecessarily bright even in dim surroundings.  
  
There were several notifications about time zone and coverage adjustment but other than that no messages. It was somewhat disappointing.  
  
Perhaps Genji believed he would have turned his phone off during the flight - despite the fact that modern aircraft could navigate perfectly well with cellphone interference. Part of running - and subsequently targeting - a criminal empire, involved a certain degree of knowledge about technology and a need to be constantly connected. Neither he nor his brother were by any means knowledgeable about computers, but they were competent.  
  
Swiping his thumb across the screen, he composed his first message.

 

The response came almost immediately, etching a scowl onto his face. So Genji was still idle enough to carry his phone with him all day long. Hanzo was aware of the hypocrisy of desiring swift communication while simultaneously judging his brother for providing it, but he didn’t care.

 

A strange combination of melancholy and elation filled him with those words. His soul ached for the brother he had lost, but his mind would not allow him to forget his sins. He wondered absentmindedly if Genji’s teammates knew what he had done and would dismiss him offhand.  
It had been so many years, this almost felt like a dream. Was this really happening to him or would he awaken in that shrine? Had the assassin killed him and forced him to live in some purgatory where he must atone before he can be sent on to join his ancestors?

 

 

  
  


Sighing Hanzo made to shove the device back into his pocket, but was interrupted by another message.  


 

  
  
  
  
A group chat? This was something he did not want to be a part of. They had never met him before, he wasn’t an official part of the team, what on earth would he say to them? Joining the chat would be just as futile as any attempt to deter Genji from adding him to it in the first place.  
  
Hanzo was halfway through composing a message imploring his brother to reconsider when another message pinged on the screen.

_  
_

Hanzo rubbed his temple with his free hand, he had only just been added to this conversation and he was already tempted to throw his phone against the wall. He was not patient at the best of times, but the humidity and stress of the situation was not helping him. Once the notifications stopped he decided to look through the members of the chat.  
  
半蔵 _  
Genji  
Lùcio  
D.Va  
Butch Cassidy  
Sonic  
Winston  
Dr. Ziegler  
Torbjörn  
Reinhardt  
Mei  
Symmetra  
Zaryanova  
Zenyatta  
  
_

_  
  
_ A new friend. That was certainly not how he would describe himself.

 

  
  
Taking several deep breaths, Hanzo realized he had not been revealed to the team as Genji’s brother. Perhaps he had never spoken of him? Or if he had, their inability to read kanji was preventing him from being found out. He silently thanked the other man for leaving his name as it was.  
  
  
  
The chat appeared to die at this statement. Good. There was no time for idle chatter. Staring at his phone was causing the trip to take longer than originally intended. Hanzo muted the chat and focused on the task at hand; that being reaching the Gibraltar base unhindered.

* * *

 Genji had been sitting in the communal space they allocated for television and the occasional game of cards. He knew how little Hanzo would care for the chatroom, but in many respects he wanted to prepare his brother for the people he would meet beforehand. It would be less of a shock to his sensibilities, and he always took enough time to warm up to people as it was.  
  
The walls were a calming shade of heather, and the couch was white and somehow still spotless. Satya had shown them all how to remove various stains, and made some not so subtle threats about keeping the place tidy. So they had. Mostly out of gratitude to the sheer amount of high-end furniture she had commandeered after becoming their Vishkar liaison.  
  
Hana shuffled into the room followed by Lùcio and threw her weight down onto the couch next to him. The young boy sat down with more caution.  
  
“So, he's showing up then?” she asked, blowing a bubble with her candy-pink gum and popping it in Genji’s face. “Your brother?”  
  
He nodded, turning to face them both more completely. Hana was small and slight – not the default image of a soldier. She was deadly, however, and smart. Her long brunette hair was always well kept, trademark pink face paint vibrant and neat. Letting out a huff she blew her fringe out of her deep brown eyes.  
  
In comparison Lùcio was tall, with dark skin that showed not a single scar or blemish save for the tattoo on his right arm. His slight scruff of a beard had always been amusing to Genji, who was used to seeing either much more facial hair, or none. Dreadlocks swinging with every enthusiastic movement he made, it was hard not to see the sparkle and zest for life in his dark irises.  
  
They both wore casual outfits today, shirts and jeans. Hana’s shirt was emblazoned with her rabbit emblem, Lùcio’s plain black.  
  
“Yes, it was not difficult for everyone to assume his identity.”  
  
Picking out the way the green glow of his bio-engineered body bounced off his surroundings, he refocused his mind on the conversation at hand.  
  
“I googled his name, _Han-zō_. He seems like a bore.” Huffed Hana eventually.  
  
Genji laughed despite himself.  
  
“He has been guarded for a long time, it will take some effort on all our parts to ensure his comfort.”  
  
She snorted, and Lùcio scolded her for being rude.  
  
“I bet he’s great when you get to know him.”  
  
“Great people don’t murder their kinfolk.” Jesse’s drawl floated over from the doorway. His face a deep frown.  
  
The youngest Shimada looked up at him, usual crimson serape forgotten in favor of a heavy leather Jacket and a pair of roughed up jeans. Perhaps the most normal he had ever seen the gunslinger look. If a little scruffy. His beard was unkempt and hair disheveled. It seemed as if he had not long gotten out of bed.  
  
“It was a different time.” Genji began. “You know not his situation, and I have forgiven it.”  
  
“Yeah man, everyone’s been through some shit.” Lùcio offered. Jesse grumbled something about kids with no life experience and left.  
  
The three of them remained, Hana and Lùcio talking, and Genji mostly listening until Hanzo was due to arrive.

* * *

The base was about as Hanzo had expected it to be. Somewhat run-down and in need of repair, but functional and well-furnished. _Exceptionally_ well furnished, in fact. After his journey he had no desire to meet with any of his new team-mates. He barely even wanted to see Genji anymore. The automated security system was expecting him, and the AI introduced herself as Athena. She allowed him entry and provided him with a map, which he used to navigate to the dormitories. Namely the most suitable room he could find as far away from the others as possible. If he had visited Genji beforehand he would have heard Athena’s protests at his choice – but he had not.  
  
He was a man of few possessions from a life which required him to constantly move, so he did not mind a room with little provisions. Even he had to admit, however that it was impractical to stay in a room without a bed. So he allowed himself to move to the renovated wing for now.  
  
Putting his bag on the mattress he sighed, deciding not to unpack as he intended to move in the coming days.  
  
The bed was comfortable, but not dressed. Though Hanzo preferred a futon, and so intended to take only the mattress to the room he had originally chosen. A small desk sat in the far corner of the room, sleek and modern with a light strip mounted into the wall above it. The general shape of the room was square, with a sliding closet door to his right and another door next to the desk – which Hanzo assumed lead to an en-suite of sorts. A look inside confirmed his suspicions, though the room contained only a sink with a mirror, a cabinet and a toilet. Looks as though showers would still be communal. The thought unsettled him a little, as he had always been averse to bathing with strangers. Padding back over to the bed, he sat down on the edge, trying to ascertain whether the desk chair was yellow or orange.  
  
Behind him the bedroom door slid open with a rush of cool air.  
  
“Genji.” He greeted his brother without turning to face him.  
  
The other man sat on the desk chair backwards with his arms resting atop the backrest, placing something heavy on the desk itself.  
  
“Brother.” Genji responded in kind with a brief pause. “You did not come to introduce yourself.”  
  
Still with his back facing him Hanzo gestured to the room at large.  
  
“I wished to settle myself first.”  
  
Unclipping the locks on the hard flight case he took out his bow, and as it unfolded neatly into his hands he felt much of his anxiety melt away.  
  
“I have a few things you may need in this regard. Though I am glad you have chosen to stay in the same block as the rest of us.”  
  
Genji threw a package he had brought in with him onto the bed, Hanzo looked at it from the corner of his eye.  
  
“I will use it later.” He responded, feeling momentarily guilty over his desire to move rooms. “Thank you.”  
  
Genji beamed, though his brother was not looking at him it was nice to hear those words.  
  
“There is some bedding I think. A towel, and a few other items. Ah, before I forget!” He got up from the chair and walked over to Hanzo, a small black earpiece in his outstretched hand. “This is for communication with the team.”  
  
Hanzo took the device, finally opting to look up at his brother. His visor was open, a look of contentedness on his scarred face. The only part of him that remained. Hanzo wanted to be sick.  
  
He felt the room spin around him, his chest tightened and his breath quickened.  
  
“Thank you.” He choked out around a tongue that felt too large in his mouth. “I will use it later.”  
  
From a voice that was not his own.  
  
But still Genji did not move, he simply continued to smile at his brother. There was something so wrong about the cheerful expression he wore, and yet something so _him_.  
  
There was a long, awkward silence, wherein Hanzo could not tear his gaze from his younger sibling and yet the sight horrified him to his core.  
  
Eventually Genji shifted his weight uncomfortably from one side to the other.  
  
“I had actually hoped you would open that package with me here.”  
  
Reluctantly tearing his eyes away, Hanzo was grateful for something else to focus on other than the overwhelming desire to run for his life. To run from his guilt.  
  
“Why?” he asked, eyeing it with suspicion.  
  
“There were items included by the other members, and I am curious to see the contents. Call me childish if you wish but I was looking forward to watching my brother open a present.”  
  
Another twinge of guilt twisted in his chest like a hot knife. It was painful to breathe, why was Genji like this? Why was he so happy?  
  
Then another stab for being so spiteful about his brother’s new life. If he was content, it was not his place to covet or to envy it. It was thoughts like this which meant he had no happiness of his own.  
  
“I suppose I have no choice then.”  
  
Reluctantly Hanzo inserted the earpiece so that he would not have to hold it any longer, and so that Genji would not see him toss it in a drawer somewhere. The sponge-like material expanded in his ear to fill the space comfortably. He would worry about its use later when it was important.  
His younger brother sat cross legged at the end of the mattress now, excitement evident on his features. _Hah, some things never change._ Sitting opposite him at the head of the bed Hanzo pried open the parcel and began to take out the contents, arranging them neatly around him.  
  
“A towel, and bedding as you suggested.” He noted, feeling the soft, white fabric between his fingers.  
  
Crisp and freshly laundered. Someone had gone to the trouble of doing this for him.  
  
Other items were seemingly just as mundane, a toothbrush, some toothpaste, shampoo and soap. Followed by a tablet computer which Genji told him was standard issue to all agents as a means of information sharing. Hanzo was still intending to rely on his own devices.  
  
After unpacking the essentials, there was another section to the box. Inside, they found several items donated by the other members. A pair of trainers from Lena, a box of tea from Mei, a game from D.Va and a CD each from Lùcio and Reinhardt. Dr. Ziegler had included a basic first aid kit, and Winston had written a welcome message with instructions on how to use his earpiece and linking himself up to Athena’s information network. Hanzo’s eyes, however, were drawn to a thin box – not unlike the kind ties would be kept in. Opening it carefully he looked up at his brother and offered him a genuine smile.  
  
“Thank you, I shall find use for this.”  
  
Genji however, was amused.  
  
“I did not add anything to the box. I know your attitude towards unwarranted gifts.”  
  
This was confusing, who could have given him such a thing?  
  
“Then who…?”  
  
“What is it?”  
  
Carefully, as though it might disappear into thin air Hanzo thumbed the fabric inside the box – as smooth as silk. Lifting it up so that it shone in the light he dangled the offending article in front of his brother. A hair tie.  
  
Genji whistled low, snapping his fingers at the same time.  
  
“That’s beautiful, definitely from Jesse.”  
  
“Jesse?”  
  
“He is the one I said was like a cowboy from those old films.”  
  
Jesse. McCree. Hanzo knew this name from his brother’s tales. A strange but otherwise honorable man with a heavy conscience. This raised more questions than it answered.  
  
“How did this ‘cowboy’ know about such a thing?”  
  
“I have shown him a photograph of you. It must have been then.”  
  
A lump caught in his throat at the thought of Genji sharing pictures of him with the other members of Overwatch.  
  
“I see, what a strange thing to remember.”  
  
“He mentioned it at the time, asked me what color it was.”  
  
Hanzo’s throat dried up completely at the implication. This McCree could not see colors, and it was true, then, that Genji could.  
  
“I-I see.” His voice caught despite himself. Genji’s expression was now one of pity. It burned in Hanzo’s stomach like bile and he felt the heat rise to his cheeks.  
  
“You should meet him.”  
  
“The cowboy?”  
  
“No, my mentor.”  
  
Silence consumed them both, Hanzo had no intention of meeting his brother’s soulmate. What could he say? He was responsible for all the things that had happened to him, and did not want to explain himself.  
  
“No.”  
  
Genji frowned.  
  
“He would like to meet you. He has said so. Our arrangement is unconventional, but he cares for you as a part of me. As a person.”  
  
“I will not pretend to think on it, Genji. No.”  
  
“You are stubborn as ever. Fine. I think he could help you.”  
  
Genji rose from his position and made to leave the room. Despite not knowing the color, Hanzo felt the glow of the lights that faced him, hearing a subtle click as the visor slid back down into position.  
  
“Oh,” he paused, halfway out of the door. “It is blue.”  
  
As the door slid shut behind him Hanzo threw his bag at it. The sold thud not as satisfying as he hoped it might be. Clutching the new hair tie in his hand he fell back onto the mattress, pressing the cool fabric to his forehead.  
  
He fell asleep like this, the picture of fatigue and frustration. How dare his brother be so happy? How dare he forgive him? He did not deserve to be forgiven without some sort of penance – of which he had paid none.

* * *

Hanzo awoke to a crackling sound in his ear. He had fallen asleep with the earpiece in. No matter. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, realizing he still clutched the tie in his hand. Placing the fabric back in the box he noticed a memory stick which had been concealed underneath it. It was unlike him to miss this the first time. As he came around from sleep the crackling revealed itself to be a voice, low and gravely. A man’s voice with a southern American drawl.  
  
He was not speaking to anyone in particular; in fact he was not speaking at all. He was singing to himself, seemingly unaware that he was broadcasting his voice. Hanzo did not recognize the song, but the man could carry the tune. He was by no means an incredible singer, but he was not unpleasant to listen to either. Except for the fact that he had interrupted Hanzo’s sleep.  
  
“What an unusual alarm clock.” He grumbled, assuming his own voice was being picked up on the other end.  
  
The singing stopped abruptly.  
  
Jesse had been reclining in his chair on the roof as per usual for a sunny afternoon in Gibraltar. A cigarillo in one hand and the other resting haphazardly across his stomach. There was a spot in which, if he tilted his hat just right to keep the light out of his eyes, he could sit for hours. His mind would occasionally wander without any real purpose and he liked it this way. Time to think if he needed it, time to stop thinking if he needed that instead. Besides, up here nobody could hear him singing to himself. Or so he had thought.  
  
The rough voice barking back at him snapped him from his reverie, causing him to drop ash on his forearm. Cursing he jumped up out of his seat.  
  
“Wha-? Who the hell is this?”  
  
“I could ask you the same, however I believe I already know.”  
  
“Oh, and how d’ya figure that?”  
  
“Your accent and taste in music implies that you are someone I have been told about before. I assume you were unaware that you were singing in my ear?”  
  
Hanzo rubbed his temples, he wished that this man would grasp the situation a little more quickly so that they could end their conversation in as little time as possible.  
  
A scowl worked its way on to Jesse’s features as he flopped back down into his seat. Judging from his voice, the man talking was Genji’s estranged brother. Great. He’d hoped to avoid him for as long as possible. Still, the younger Shimada wanted them all to be hospitable – and if there was anything he felt like he knew about it was how to make someone feel welcome. Or unwelcome.  
  
This time, he decided to drip some honey.  
  
“Sorry sweetness, I guess you must be the new guy. I usually just flip to this channel on account of it bein faster than turnin off the piece. Nobody’s been listenin in before.”  
  
Sweetness? How absurd and blatantly inappropriate.  
  
“I beg your pardon?”  
  
Hanzo spluttered, flustered by the name McCree had used. Glad for his privacy, as he imagined to any who could see it, his face would be obscured beneath a deep layer of red blush – from his neck to the tips of his ears.  
  
“I said I usually flip t’this channel cause it’s empty.”  
  
“Not that you fool. The name you used to refer to me, do not do so again.”  
  
Jesse grinned to himself, gotcha! Just as he thought, the man was uptight. At least he knew what buttons to press if he wanted to get a rise out of him.  
  
“Oh, sorry, not a fan o’pet names? It’s a habit, don’t take it personal. I do it to everyone.”  
  
“That is even worse.” Hanzo groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You do not know me, do not presume to do so.”  
  
“You gotta be Genji’s brother right? Han something?” asked Jesse, feigning ignorance.  
  
“Hanzo. You may _not_ use my first name. And I refuse to believe someone who remembered something as mundane as the fabric of my hair tie would forget my name.”  
  
“Yer right, got me there. Just wanted to hear you pronounce it.”  
  
Hanzo bristled, this man was teasing him. Like a school boy.  
  
“You are McCree.”  
  
“Yessir, Jesse McCree at your service.”  
  
“Well, McCree, this line is now occupied. Please take your singing elsewhere.”  
  
Hanzo desired only to end their conversation, unimpressed with his companion’s attitude and wishing to remove himself from the situation before his pride was further insulted.  
  
“Wait now – hold on a tick. You don’t wanna chat?”  
  
Finding himself gesticulating to the air around him McCree momentarily forgot himself. It was embarrassing.  
  
“Why would I want to chat? We share nothing in common, and I intend to return to the sleep you interrupted.”  
  
“Now you’re the one bein rude. How d’ya know if we ain’t got anything in common?”  
  
At this, Hanzo found himself smirking. It seemed that while the strange cowboy of his brother’s tales was apt at making fun of him, he was also prone to some weakness himself. He was no idiot, there was distrust on both ends of the line. McCree was clearly not fond of him. However… There was something here to exploit.  
  
“Very well, state your hobbies.”  
  
He had no intention of listening to McCree’s list. Even if they aligned with his own he would claim that they did not. He would eschew them as boring, with no unique qualities – because McCree had made one fatal mistake. He had shown a momentary glimpse of a desire for attention, which the ex-yakuza clung onto like a raft in a storm. A way in which to gain the upper hand.  
  
“State? Damn yer a real charmer aren’t ya? Alright, like shootin, singin, a good night out –“  
  
“It is as I thought. Mundane and uninteresting to me. Goodnight, Jesse McCree.”  
  
Interrupting the other man in the middle of his sentence, Hanzo didn’t even bother to turn his ear piece off. He simply removed it and placed it on his bed side table. Satisfied his damage was done.  
  
“Wha-? Hanzo? Hey, Shimada? Well I’ll be dammed.”

  
Jesse ground his teeth together. His hobbies weren’t boring! Or maybe they were. Nobody wanted to spend all that much time with him besides the two kids and even then, they mostly poked fun at him; or showed him something to see if he was interested. He was more like an uncle than anything else. Not the cool uncle – the eccentric one your parents rarely let you hang out with.  
  
Damn it!  
  
He’d let that bastard mess with his head. It was supposed to be the other way around!  
Kicking some dust off the top of his perch McCree picked up his empty flask and coffee mug and made his way back inside to the shade.

His room was a little way out from the others’. He wasn’t fond of company unless it was on his terms. Often, he found himself in the position of desiring attention while simultaneously being terrified of seeking it. Much of his life was spent being told the only special thing about him was his aim, beyond that he was bland, a caricature of some bygone era. Kids only liked sci-fi nowadays, didn’t he know that?  
_  
Good aim, terrible conviction._ He could hear the echoes of Gabriel Reyes’ voice in his subconscious. His mentor. He always told him if he really wanted to reach his full potential he had to really believe what he was doing was right. Give himself up to it. McCree had never really been any good at that. He dreaded the day his teammates needed him and his dead-eye again – and that dread was one of many barriers to his performance.  
  
Before he realized it he was in the training area. Athena’s voice wafted down to him, informing him of the time and that he had his pick of the ranges. Nobody else was here. Good.  
  
“Agent McCree. Do you wish to run a simulation today?”  
  
Her lifelike voice always creeped him out a little.  
  
“Not today Athena. Just line em up.”  
  
“Very well, enter at your leisure. Will you be using live rounds?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“Understood. A maximum of four hours without a break is recommended. Please remember to rest your body. Winston has shown concern for some agents’ overworking themselves.”  
  
“Thanks. I’ll remember.”  
  
He did, in fact, remember. However, he chose to ignore her warnings. Often he would spend an entire day down here without food. It wasn’t by choice, he just didn’t feel hungry. His thoughts stuck on repeat left no room for the grumbling of his stomach and the ache of his muscles.  
  
“ _Good aim, terrible conviction.”  
  
Reyes squinted at the target, it was a fifty-fifty on whether it would be a kill shot or not.  
  
“I just ain’t that good yet.”  
  
Jesse grumbled, knowing full well he’d done better with the Deadlocks.  
  
“You are. But practice. Always practice. Know why?”  
  
“So I don’t fall off?”  
  
“Well yeah shit, but mostly cause it makes you believe you’re good enough. You just gotta fuckin go for it. Don’t think too hard kid. You did better in the gorge cause you didn’t think about it. Try and find that again.”  
_  
Around the four hour mark, he picks himself up off the floor where he has been catching his breath.  
  
“Athena?”  
  
“Yes, agent McCree? Do you wish to take a break?”  
  
“No, can you run me a couple of sims?”  
  
There is a long pause, McCree watches the robots move on their pre-programmed routes with their lifeless eyes and shivers.  
  
“I do not recommend this course of action. Confirm, run a simulation?”  
  
“Yeah. Please.”  
  
Athena did not respond to him, but the layout of the area began to shift and change. Then he heard it.  
  
“Simulation begins in 30 seconds.”  
  
A grin found its way onto his features as he pelted towards a sufficient vantage point. Some good scores would bring his confidence back up. He made short work of the sim, and as the last enemy fell – a bullet hole through its forehead – he spun on his heels to look up at the scoreboard. He promptly burst into tears. Kneeling on the ground he shook with a mixture of elation and frustration, using his hands to stabilize himself as the sim dissolved around him. He was glad nobody knew just how often he cried nowadays. It was easy, like turning on a tap. Crying from laughter, crying from grief, waking up from a nightmare to a pillow wet with tears.  
  
No sooner had he collected himself and walked out of the door he ran straight into Hana and Lùcio, the boy took him in for a hug. His hat fell, discarded on the floor.  
  
“We didn’t think it was real.” Hana sneered. “Top of the scoreboard? I still kick your ass at Street Fighter.”  
  
“Yo great job lone ranger!”  
  
Feeling as if he was on cloud nine, Jesse picks his hat up and looks at them a little shocked.  
  
“Why did y’all come down here? Not just cause of this?”  
  
“The AI kept whining that you hadn’t eaten all day.” Hana complained, barely looking up from her phone.  
  
“Her name is Athena man, don’t be rude.” Lùcio chided her, and she rolled her eyes. “Anyway let’s blow this joint. Mei made these bun things that are incredible!”  
  
“Ya, I’m hungry. Old man.”  
  
“You damn kids. Alright, let’s eat!”  
  
With each arm linked with one of theirs McCree forgot his earlier insecurity and found himself genuinely happy once again. It was bittersweet, the camaraderie, but these people were his family now and he loved them.

* * *

The next day Hanzo was beginning to get used to the time difference, and to help himself along had forced himself to wake at seven. His morning routine followed a strict pattern, making his bed, a workout followed by breakfast, then a shower and brushing his teeth. This morning he opted for a trip to the practice range. Athena had informed him that nobody was down there at this time save for Genji on occasion. Today he was not.  
  
Running his calloused fingers over the console, Hanzo took some pleasure in the tactile keys afforded here rather than a touch keyboard.  
  
“Athena, what statistics are recorded here?” he asked the AI, inspecting the padded floor and tiled roof.  
  
White. As the driven snow. Then again, it could be a pale shade of something else – Hanzo wished he knew.  
  
“Many statistics are recorded, including but not limited to: weapon accuracy, kills, percentage of fatal shots versus non-fatal, physical takedowns, and healing.”  
  
“That scoreboard, is a combination of all these things?”  
  
“Yes. The largest contribution comes from time taken to complete a mission and number of enemies taken down.”  
  
“Do I ask when I want to start the simulation?”  
  
“Yes, I can begin any time.”  
  
A short time later the simulation was completed, and a new name now sat atop the scoreboard. Bots were strewn left right and center, most resembling pincushions though several that had gotten too close were left with broken necks. Now that he was finished, he felt much calmer, and somewhat guilty for his childish behavior the last few days.  
  
“Remove my name from the scoreboard.”  
  
“Mr. Shimada?”  
  
“I do not require recognition.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
Satisfied, Hanzo asked Athena to reset the room back to the padded floor and set to some stretching. When he was finished, he returned to his room and ate a breakfast of mixed fruit. Finally beginning to feel more like himself.  
  
This game continued for another week or so, Hanzo watching the top score fluctuate and swap between members, breaking it and then deleting his record. Blissfully unaware that the entire team had already seen him in action.  
  
Athena sent video records to Winston for analysis, who showed his footage to the others. He wanted everyone to begin adjusting their action plans to include their new sniper, and to learn from Hanzo’s tactical approach to the simulations. McCree had watched them on repeat, irritated by the ease with which Hanzo broke his records, but also impressed by his skill. The way he flowed across the map like water. It was probably even more graceful in color, if the reactions of his teammates were anything to go on.  
  
Eventually this lead to Jesse contacting him on the earpiece again.  
  
“Hey Shimada, you there?” he asked, from his usual afternoon spot on the roof of the main building. He assumed a similar time of day to last time would be ideal. The line was silent for a while. Jesse was about to resign himself to no response when the channel crackled into life.  
  
Hanzo had been reading when he received a notification from Athena on his laptop. Someone was trying to contact him via voice communications. Grumbling indignantly he inserted his earpiece.  
  
“Hello?”  
  
Jesse almost fell out of his chair.  
  
“Oh! There y’are! Figured you were busy or something.”  
  
Grinding his teeth, Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
“I was lead to believe this was important. I see I was mistaken.” The irritation was evident in his voice.  
  
“Don’t be like that, wanted to congratulate you on all your high scores.” Replied McCree, equally as irritated.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“You, in the training range. Been deleting them outta courtesy to us, or maybe cause you don’t feel like a member yet. But yer good. Real good.”  
  
He had hit the nail on the head. Hanzo was not a member. He had not officially signed himself on to Overwatch yet – and did not intend to any time soon. He was not affiliated with them and so should not take part in their friendly competition. Still, he could not hide the swell of pride in his chest at the way McCree spoke about his skills.  
  
“Oh.” He paused, reminding himself to be courteous. “Thank you.”  
  
“Yer welcome.”  
  
There was a small stretch of silence, before Hanzo offered something in response.  
  
“You are… not bad yourself.”  
  
It was an understatement, McCree was good. But it begrudged the archer to tell him so.  
  
“Nah, I’m alright. Shoulda seen me when I was –“  
  
Catching himself, Jesse stopped mid-sentence. _When I was a gang member. When I killed without thinking about it. When Reyes was here._  
  
“When you were?”  
  
Hanzo prompted him to continue, but he could not find the words.  
  
“Younger.” He completed eventually.  
  
“Ah.”  
  
The archer felt his chest tighten, he recognized the exhaustion in McCree’s voice. It was not dissimilar from his own feelings about his youth.  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“I was once… younger, too.” He offered in solidarity.  
  
McCree thought about this for a while, and felt embarrassed by the judgement he had passed before even speaking to Hanzo. He didn’t exactly have a sterling reputation.  
  
“I think I sometimes forget that we all were.” He replied eventually by way of apology.  
  
“It is sometimes difficult to see outside of one’s own experiences.”  
_  
I accept your apology._  
  
“What do you like to do Shimada?” asked McCree, eventually. To fill the silence.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Your hobbies, maybe we got somethin to talk about.”  
  
“I.” a pause. “I enjoy gardening.”  
  
“For real?”  
  
The thought of Hanzo’s strong arms and well-practiced hands tending to a garden made McCree chuckle to himself. He was at a distinct advantage knowing what the older Shimada looked like. Whereas Hanzo had no idea about him. The thought concerned him. Why did it? He had no reason to care what Hanzo thought about his appearance.  
  
“Yes. Also Reading. Sometimes painting.”  
  
An image of Hanzo wearing a white shirt covered in paint marks found its way into Jesse’s head. Smiling like he was in the photograph that Genji had shown him. It was nice. It suited him.  
  
“I like to be out in the sun, we have a little plot of land here ya know? Could do with some green fingers. If ya ever want company out there I could come sit with ya.”  
  
The thought of company while he was gardening was not appealing to Hanzo. He did it to be alone with the fresh air. To relax. Time with McCree, he assumed, would not be relaxing.  
  
“Perhaps. I prefer solitary pursuits.”  
  
“I promise I won’t try to make small-talk.”  
  
The disappointment in McCree’s voice was evident. Would it really be so bad? Hanzo wondered. To garden while the other man sat and enjoyed what he had cultivated?  
  
“I do not believe that for a second. But I shall consider your offer.”  
  
They continued like this in comfortable conversation until the late evening. Hanzo reading, offering absentminded commentary to his companion. McCree simply listening and describing his surroundings. They discussed how much better the garden might be once they could see colors again, but spoke no further of soulmates. McCree had felt comfortable confiding in the archer since he had brought it up first.  
  
Hanzo reasoned his love of books came from their vivid imagery. The scenes they painted in his mind, imagined in all their vibrancy from a happier time. McCree liked this. He asked Hanzo to read to him, which he obliged. Sometimes McCree played his guitar. It was comfortable. It was nice.

* * *

 

They continued like this for a week or so, until one night Hanzo found himself getting increasingly curious about the memory stick that had been included with his hair tie.  
  
“McCree.”  
  
Jumping out of his skin, Jesse leapt about two feet into the air. He had been lying in bed, half reading a news article about Deadlock activity on Route 66 when Hanzo’s voice rang out in his ear.  
  
“Jeeze, you startled me. What’s up Shimada?”  
  
There was some static over the earpiece then a flustered reply.  
  
“What is this memory stick?”  
  
Hanzo wasted no time getting straight to the point.  
  
“Oh that? It’s from all of us – sorta. It was my idea. Got everyone to put their favourite movies and stuff on it to share with ya. Figured with how different we all are you’d find somethin you like. There’s some photos too, of the team. From missions and parties and stuff.”  
  
“Oh.” There was a long pause, followed by a quiet addition. “Thank you.”  
  
McCree’s heart soared. Gratitude from Hanzo was rare and precious, it meant a lot.  
  
“If yer ever wantin someone to watch films with ya me Hana and Lùcio are always around for a movie night. Genji joins in pretty often too.”  
  
The archer bristled in his empty room. It was still too raw, he didn’t want to spend time like that with his brother. Too familiar, too normal.  
  
“No.” Hanzo replied sharply, not meaning to come across as so harsh. “Thank you. I must decline.”  
  
McCree’s hopes of meeting his friend deflated.  
  
“It’s up to you darlin but the offer’s there.”  
  
“Do not do that. I already told you.”  
  
Hanzo scolded him, and Jesse chuckled apologetically.  
  
“What? Oh shit, sorry Shimada. Habit.”  
  
“Will you be here at this hour tomorrow?” Hanzo asked after a brief silence. Jesse smiled despite himself, running a hand through his messy hair.  
  
“Probably.”  
  
“I will keep my earpiece in.”  
  
“Sounds good to me Ha- uh. Shimada.”  
  
“Goodbye, McCree.”  
  
Hanzo was left alone again, and the silence was uncomfortable. He was so used to the cowboy mumbling about something or whistling a tune in his ear that he hated to be reminded that he was actually here by himself. McCree was not with him. They were not friends, not really, and he had nobody to blame for that except himself. If he would just allow himself to meet the others, then perhaps he could form meaningful relationships here. Instead he chose to subject himself to this limbo, as a form of self-punishment.  
  
It was disruptive, he knew, but he could not bring himself to fix the situation. One day he would leave, and they would forget him. Just another fallen leaf from their tree of life. It was better this way.  
  
Yet something about McCree’s easy personality made him return time and again. They spoke for hours at a time, every single day. Pausing only when McCree was spending time with other members, and even then he had become a sort of correspondent between them and Hanzo.  
  
Two whole weeks passed, before Jesse’s concerns began to grow.  
He was sat in the canteen, where Mei was asking him about their newest member.  
  
“Does he not want to meet us?” she asked, somewhat disheartened. Her jolly features distorted with concern as she washed dishes in the island sink.  
  
“I don’t think it’s that he doesn’t wanna, he just doesn’t know how to.” Jesse replied, stirring his coffee absentmindedly; wondering briefly if Hanzo liked to drink it too.  
  
“It is a great shame. A new comrade would be most helpful!” Reinhardt boomed from the other side of the kitchenette.  
  
“Do you think you can convince him? You seem to know him well now.” Mei offered optimistically. “I’m sure he would be happier with some company.”  
  
Jesse felt his ego inflate a little thinking that he was the only one Hanzo wanted to speak to besides Genji.  
  
“Yer right about that, but he’s a stubborn mule. Don’t think he’s even seen a photo of any of us.”  
  
“Really? Why don’t you go visit him?”  
  
“He actually came to me once.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“I panicked. Pretended not to hear him at first, then I talked to him through the door.”  
  
Jesse didn’t recount the details, the way that he had leant back against the cool metal, his back to the door as Hanzo had done the same. That he had pretended not to hear the panic in the archer’s voice when he declined him entry, that he had cried when he left. That they had used each other’s first names, and that he loved the way Hanzo pronounced his. That he was falling for someone so far out of his league. Someone high up in the sky, while he was buried beneath the ground.  
  
He felt like a voyeur, he knew what the archer looked like, but his own insecurity had driven him so far as to remove all his video footage from the training tapes. The idea of being rejected for his looks was unbearable and yet inevitable.  
  
“Oh Jesse. It’s okay to be nervous about making a friend.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“She is right! Do not worry, you are a great man ya?”  
  
Jesse snorted, they had no idea.  
  
“I ain’t nervous, he put me on edge! You make me sound like a kid. How d’ya reckon we’re close enough I could convince him anyway?”  
  
“He is all you talk about recently.”  
_  
That’s not what you do when you make a new friend. Makes me sound like a lovesick puppy._  
  
“Y’all are just ganging up on me. His itchiness about meetin everyone got me worked up that I’d be disappointing or something so I couldn’t do it.”  
  
“You wouldn’t be disappointing. Don’t think that way of yourself. I wish he would check the group chat sometimes…”  
  
The gunslinger rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. It seemed Hanzo had muted the chat at the outset and never checked on it since. Maybe he should mention it. Mei’s invitation for pancakes earlier would have been a good opportunity to meet.

  
“I think he just needs time to come round. Don’t worry, it’ll work out.” He choked out despite the growing nausea in his stomach.  
  
“If you say so Jesse.”

* * *

The small hours of the morning rolled around without any event, but McCree was struggling to fall asleep. He was often awake at this time, staring at his ceiling. A strange thought occurred to him – he had always assumed that the tiles were grey but what if they weren’t? What if they were something entirely different? Nobody had ever corrected him on it, but he was never stupid enough to ask someone what the color of his own ceiling was.  
  
In fact, a lot of people thought he could see it already. He talked often, and loudly, about someone he left behind but kept in touch with. A woman, with hair as golden as the sunbeams that filtered through the trees of her little orchard where she grew apples for her brewery. Homemade cider, popular in the local town. He didn’t want anyone to know he was one of the only members of the team who still lived his life in black and white. Genji knew it, but beyond that…  
  
Genji had Zenyatta, Mei had Zarya, Tracer’s girlfriend Emily lived at home, Reinhardt lost his lover long ago but her memory kept his life vibrant. It wasn’t that he thought that they _would_ judge him, but they _might_.  
  
The only ones in the same position as himself – as far as he knew – were Angela, Lùcio and Hana. He guessed maybe Hanzo would even the number out a bit, but even then he disliked it.  
It wasn’t even a question of sexuality – Overwatch was a diverse group of individuals – but his attitude afforded a certain level of masculine heterosexuality that he felt would upset the balance if he informed them otherwise.  
  
As his thoughts spiraled, relief came in the form of Hanzo’s voice in his ear.

“Jesse. Are you awake?”  
  
Sitting up abruptly, he grinned despite himself.  
  
“Huh, Hanzo? What’s up? It’s a bit late fer you.”  
  
He heard the archer snort at the implication. In truth, he had been having a similar internal struggle. His thoughts, however, mostly centered around rejection by his teammates, the wasted years he had spent believing that Genji was dead. Following the orders of his elders without thought. The legend of the dragons. The past, and how it obscured his future.  
  
“I have been looking through the memory stick.”  
  
McCree’s pulse quickened.  
  
“Oh, d’ya like any of the films?”  
  
“Yes. No.” He paused. “Well. I don’t know.”  
  
“Are you okay? Ya sound a little weird.”  
  
A rush of static which must have been a sigh caused Jesse’s ear to throb a little.  
  
“The team members do not look as I expected them to. However…”  
  
“What?”  
  
“There are no pictures of you. I do not know what you look like, beyond Genji’s descriptions.”  
  
Swallowing the lump in his throat Jesse stumbled over his words for a moment.  
  
“There ain’t any good pictures of me.”  
  
“Is there a reason for this?”  
  
Maybe Hanzo knew, that McCree didn’t like the way he looked, how he’d aged.  
  
“Nothin particular.”  
  
There was silence for a while.  
  
“What did Genji tell you?”  
  
It was like an arrow to the gut, the older Shimada thought that _he_ was the reason that McCree didn’t include a photo. That he thought he was a monster and didn’t want to know him.  
  
“Look, Hanzo, we know shit went down. We know you fucked up, but we know Genji did too. He’s yer brother at the end of the day and he loves ya. He forgives you, thinks you can do some good and thinks Overwatch will do _you_ some good. It ain’t our place to pass judgment.”  
  
“That may be so but I will not blame any of you for doing so.”  
  
“Honestly? Everyone else was pretty chilled out bout it. Didn’t mind that shit happened, all that mattered to them was Genji. I was _pissed_. Didn’t make no sense to me what kinda person could do that to their kinfolk. But I promised Genji I’d give it a go and yer a good guy.”  
  
They ran out of things to say again for a little while, Hanzo thinking over what Jesse had said to him.  
  
“There are no recent photographs of me either. My lifestyle did not allow it.”  
  
“Maybe we can take some if we get shipped out together.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Jesse’s heart skipped a beat.  
  
“Okay?”  
  
“You want to take a photograph. I am agreeing to the activity.”  
  
Hanzo could feel the blush rising up his face again. There was nothing to be embarrassed over, but McCree was making such a big deal out of it. Ever since the incident where he tried to meet with him he had not tried again. It would be nice to know somebody other than his brother.  
  
Someone who could vouch for him.  
  
“Jesse.”  
  
“Hanzo?”  
  
“Will you come here?”  
  
McCree could hear the blood rushing in his ears, that rhythmic whooshing drowning out his thoughts momentarily. He didn’t think he could go to Hanzo’s room, where he lived. Where he spent most of his time. However, did he really want to go on like this? In this situation where they never actually met? He wanted to see how he had aged since that picture, what time had done to that effeminate face – how it had changed his features.  
  
“No.” he managed eventually. Hanzo said nothing for a while.  
  
“I see.”  
  
“But,” McCree interrupted quickly. “You… you could come here.”  
  
Hanzo’s eyes widened, sitting up on the edge of his bed he raised an eyebrow inquisitively.  
  
“I have tried that once before.”  
  
“I promise, I’ll open the door this time. Can’t sleep anyway.”  
  
“I have had a thought.” the older Shimada informed him as he grabbed a simple yukata and tied it haphazardly. From what he could see the color matched the hair tie McCree had given him. Or so he guessed. Not that Jesse could tell anyway.  
  
“Oh?”  
  
By now he was pulling on his slippers and picking up the essentials – a bedroll, his toothbrush, the memory stick, a book and a fresh pair of underwear. He rolled them all up into the center of the bedroll.  
  
“If I continue to talk to you until I arrive it will give you less time to overthink it.”  
  
Jesse laughed in spite of himself and set to tidying the room to the best of his ability. Tossing dirty clothes into his hamper and clearing rubbish off his desk into the bin. Empty beer bottles did not give a good impression.  
  
“If you think that’s gonna work, then go for it.”  
  
“It already has.”  
  
The implication was not lost on the gunslinger, who immediately froze, looking down at himself. He was a mess, in food stained pajamas. Then his gaze travelled to the door, as Hanzo knocked lightly.  
  
“Just- Just give me a second!” he pleaded, trying to find something better to wear. Shit, he didn’t expect Hanzo to be so close by. Settling on a black t-shirt to cover his stomach his heart sank as he realized he had nothing clean to put on his bottom half besides underwear. His boxers covered enough, but he was extremely conscious of his thighs. Just slightly too chubby for his liking and covered in a spattering of dark hair.  
  
“Jesse.” Hanzo called from the other side of the door, quietly but firmly. “Do not lock me out again. It is rude.”  
  
Panicking, the gunslinger struggled to catch his breath.  
  
“I ain’t got anything decent to put on…” he admitted eventually. Almost hearing the way Hanzo rolled his eyes.  
  
“We are both men, I am not averse to the human body.”  
_  
That’s part o’the problem._  
  
Salvation! A pair of pajama pants stored in the wrong drawer. Jesse tugged them on and felt a surge of instant relief.  
  
“Ah wait, I got it! Alright, I’ll come let you in now.”  
  
Hanzo let out the breath he had been holding. He had half expected to be turned away again. He felt the irritation leave his body, at the thought of having made the trouble to come here.  
  
Jesse’s hand lingered on the keypad, heart threatening to burst out of his chest. Meeting new people was not fun for him. He didn’t like it. Didn’t want to see judgement, negative or positive, on Hanzo’s face. Didn’t want to have built their friendship up into more than it was only to find out the archer only tolerated him and didn’t enjoy his company.  
  
Keying in the code, he braced himself as the door slid open.  
  
It was Hanzo’s turn to panic now. Apprehension hit the pit of his stomach, as his brain told him that he had better not fuck this up. He chose to bow as was customary for him, squeezing his eyes shut.  
  
In truth, he did not want to see Jesse’s face and the judgement he was no doubt already passing on him - but this was childish and he would have to see it sooner or later.  
  
“I am Hanzo Shimada, pleased to finally make your acquaintance.”  
  
Raising his head he looked ahead of him, breath catching in his throat as his own honey colored irises met chocolate brown.

* * *

Color.  
  
Everything was in color.  
  
He could see every shade of blue in the monitor that glowed in the corner of the room, the orange accent to the décor – so that chair had been orange – McCree’s face burning red. Everywhere he looked the sight was overwhelming. His eyes settled on the other man’s arm, surprised by the depth of tones in the metal, and lingered there for a moment before scanning his surroundings again. He had always known when things were white, but now it was so clean and crisp against darkened stains, subtle tea-like patches that marred certain sections of walls, and the pleasing combination of Jesse’s black t-shirt against tanned skin.  
  
It was beautiful. Terrifying. Hilarious. It was strange being able to see what a fashion disaster McCree’s pajama bottoms were. Hanzo tried with all his might not to think about what it might mean, but it was impossible. All these years, all this time. He had longed for this. The idea that now, in this room, was someone who could love him. Who he could love in return. Someone to fill a hole that he thought would remain forever – a visual reminder that he was not beyond saving. Not beyond redemption. His hand flew instinctively to the tie that he wore in his hair, the one McCree had given to him. He grabbed the end of it, just able to bring it into his peripheral vision. Like water, beautiful. _Seigaiha_.  
  
Jesse was reeling. Bright. Too bright. Everything so intense. It had been over twenty years since he last saw what colors looked like. Even the small glimpses he had seen at other times in his life were nothing compared to this all-encompassing sensory overload. And there was no explanation for it other than Hanzo. As soon as he had laid eyes on the other man he had noticed the sapphire sash in his hair, and the grey hairs peppering his hairline. The surprise on his features made him so real as Jesse watched his eyes study him.  
_  
Shit. Shit!  
_  
Hold it together, he hasn’t said anything yet. Hold it together. But _God_ he was gorgeous. The robe – _yukata_ Genji had told him once – was a dark grey with navy pin stripes and complimented his cool demeanor. The royal blue sash tied loosely around his waist the only thing, to Jesse’s mind, holding the clothing in place. He had chosen it to match the hair tie. At first this realization warmed his heart, then sent him into a blind panic. What if Hanzo could already see colors and had simply lied to make him feel better? What if this was going to be a sick joke, and Jesse would fall for the archer only to be rejected for someone else already present in his life? Then the world would go back to shades of grey and he would be alone once more.  
  
He felt his face flush as hot as the sun, and like the sun, it was his fate to burn for Hanzo until he could burn no more.  
  
The silence went on for far too long, eventually Hanzo bowed again, brusquely, before extending a hand.  
  
“It seems we have much to discuss.”  
  
It was too much, all of it. Jesse admired him for only a few seconds longer before he shut the door.  
  
Leaving the archer stood on the other side of it without a word.  
  
“McCree!” he called in frustration.  
  
“I’m sorry Hanzo!” he replied, backing away from the door until his calves hit the mattress and he fell back to sit on the end of his bed. “I can’t!”  
  
It was overwhelming, his eyes darted to his serape draped over the edge of his desk chair. Crimson, like blood.  
  
Hanzo was not best pleased, to be locked out of McCree’s room after such a spectacular meeting was insulting.  
  
“I will not sit here a second time. Let me in.”  
  
“I can’t, it’s too much. Yer askin too much.”  
  
It was silent, McCree thought that Hanzo must have left. Instead the archer simply stood outside the door, one hand against the cool metal as he lowered his forehead to the surface.  
“Why?” he asked, trying to concentrate on the sensation to bring him down from his sensory high.  
  
“I just… I can’t.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
Jesse doubted very much that he did, but said nothing.  
  
“I am to assume you also regained your hues?” Hanzo probed further.  
  
“Yes.” He answered, quietly.  
  
“Then we are of the same understanding. Does this not mean we should talk to one another?”  
  
“No. I mean. Maybe it does but I can’t.”  
  
Hanzo spun himself around, and once again was with his back to the door.  
  
“If you are concerned about romantic implications, the connection can imply friendship, I assume you are aware? My brother and his mentor are by no means romantically involved.”  
_  
That is half the problem_. Thought Jesse cynically. _If it’s not romantic, then I’m screwed._  
  
“That’s not it.” He groaned, resting his head in his hands.  
  
“You are not interested in men?”  
  
Jesse’s head shot up, head reeling. This guy was knocking him for a loop.  
  
“I never said – what and _you_ are?”  
  
“Yes.” Hanzo’s reply was self-assured, with none of the doubt that McCree seemed to be suffering with. It made him blush harder if that was at all possible.  
  
“How can ya say that so easy?”  
  
“Because it is a fact. I am not accustomed to concerning myself with such things.”  
  
“How can ya be so sure? So, confident bout this whole thing?”  
  
Hanzo let out a slight chuckle, looking up at the strip lights in the ceiling.  
  
“You also know what transpired just now. I have lived a long time from place to place, and when I am given an opportunity I take it without too much consideration. What can there be to question?”  
  
Silence again; he decided to try one final time.  
  
“I do not pretend to know you, Jesse McCree, but I believe I must begin to. May I come in?”  
  
The other man sighed, his heart pounding so hard he felt sick. The room spun around him. After all this time he had become skeptical. Nothing good in his life came for free. Hanzo would get tired of him, or decide that despite their complimentary personalities McCree wasn’t attractive enough for him. For a man who was like a walking work of art.  
  
“I’m sorry, Hanzo.”  
  
Sighing, the archer admitted defeat. He should have known by now, that in his life he was only ever denied his desires. All that came to him was bad luck and heartache.  
  
“Very well. Goodnight, Jesse.”  
  
Those were the last words that he was offered, before Hanzo returned to his own room. The gunslinger lay back on his bed and buried his face in his pillow. He screamed as loud as he felt he could without being heard, and then a little louder still. Continuing like this until exhaustion claimed him for sleep.  
  
Hanzo’s door slid shut behind him, and he tossed the bedroll onto the floor. Opting to sleep there instead of on the bed. He was trying not to be concerned, if fate had destined them for one another then it would happen. He was not egotistical, but knew that he was not an unattractive man. If it was his personality which was off-putting then surely this would change once they spent more time with one another. Though Jesse had never given him that impression.  
  
The other man had been pleasant to look at, stocky with dark hair. A little unkempt, but in a rugged way. After a good shower, he probably turned up looking very well indeed. Try as he might, the archer could not understand the issue. Did McCree not want to see where this would lead?  
  
Tough, he thought eventually. This was his chance at something more than himself and he would be a fool if he didn’t at least try to bring Jesse around to his way of thinking.  
  
It was this vestige of hope that comforted him as he fell into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kanji and Japanese used in this chapter are as follows:  
> 半蔵: Hanzō  
> 源氏: Genji  
> Seigaiha: blue sea and waves (the pattern incorperated into much of Hanzo's clothing in canon)  
> 兄貴: Brother (older brother, aniki)  
> 雀: Sparrow  
> Sakura: cherry blossoms  
> Hakama: a type of traditional trouser  
> Yukata: like a kimono, but light for wearing in the summer, does not require tying by obi or copious layers.  
> In this chapter Genji has Hanzo saved as aniki in his phone. While Hanzo chooses to use sparrow for his brother.
> 
> Hangul used:  
> ㅋㅋㅋ lol (the sound k)  
> 디바 D.Va (diba)


	2. Compromise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the response for this has been overwhelming! I'm so glad my first chapter was so well recieved, without further delay here is chapter 2!  
> Translations for this chapter:  
> Dios - pretty much like 'oh dear' or 'damn'.  
> Perro - dog  
> Overwatch ni yokusou - welcome to Overwatch  
> Hajimemashite - pleased to meet you  
> Muérdeme - bite me  
> Hablas español - speak Spanish  
> Estoy sorprendido - I'm surprised  
> beomjoe donglyo - partners in crime

The morning went – in Hanzo’s opinion – as it always should. He awoke early and dressed himself in a pair of black sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, then took a run around the perimeter of the dorm building. He did not run into any other team members. Returning to his room he ate leftover omurice from the day before and made it to and from the showers in solitude.

He had intended to head for a morning cup of tea in the canteen, as judging by the time on the clock it was an appropriate time to do so. After some deliberation, he decided that he would wear something relatively casual. It implied no distress at his current situation – despite the fact that every time he thought of Jesse’s face his heart raced so fast he felt he might pass out.

His eyes were drawn to the yukata from last night.

_ No, inappropriate. _

Instead he pulled on a pair of navy slacks and a white t-shirt. His hair was still wet from the shower, and instead of drying it he simply brushed it back away from his face, tucking stray strands behind his ears. Inspecting his own reflection in the mirror had become foreign to him now that he could see everything in shades of color. It was another source of frustration over his disagreement with McCree. There was nothing wrong with him! No strange rashes that he had been unable to notice, or discoloration to his skin. Frowning, he tried to compose himself by taking a step back from the sink.

In all his time with the  _ Shimada-gumi  _ he had been raised to be the perfect picture of leadership. Well-groomed, and physically fit. Even now he took great pride in his appearance. It was draining, certainly, but he could not afford to let go so easily. It had never been difficult for Genji to express himself, however. He swallowed thickly, suddenly uncomfortable in his own skin. It started as an itch in his hands before it began to prickle up his spine, leaving him nauseous.

* * *

 

_ “Genji! What on earth have you done?” _

_ Hanzo watched as their mother spoke to his brother, her kind eyes wide with fright. She did not share all of their father’s opinions or values, but she enforced them nonetheless. _

_ “What?” the wayward teen responded. “It’s just hair!” _

_ The topic of debate today was Genji’s new hair color. Hanzo could not see it at this point – but knew that it was definitely not his natural black. From what others had said, he could safely ascertain that it was some shade of green. Genji’s favourite color. _

_ “Just hair? No. You stupid boy!” she was angry now, grabbing him by the wrist as he attempted to jerk himself away. “This is your image! It is your authority! How can anyone be expected to respect you when you look and act like this? Your father will be furious.” _

_ Hanzo knew that her anger was displaced terror. If she disagreed with her husband, her punishment would be far more severe than whatever he decided was necessary for Genji. He had seen it before, her black and blue body broken in the mirror as he wiped her down with a facecloth in an attempt to prevent infection from setting in. Feeling the damage beneath his fingers. She never spoke a word to him in these situations, never told him who had done these things to her – but she didn’t have to. _

_ The next day was the beginning of the end. Their father fell ill, and within a week he had died. Not a month later and Hanzo was called to council with the elders; the heads of the clan. His mother had taken her own life a few days prior. They passed judgement on his brother, on which he had no input. The younger Shimada had not fallen into line despite their now joint responsibility to lead the clan. He knew too much to be allowed to go free. The orders were clear. _

_ Bring him to heel, or take him to hell. _

_ Hanzo knew that his position was in name only. He controlled nothing. He owned nothing; not even his own bodily autonomy. If he lost this, however, he had nothing else. His entire life had been leading up to this singular goal – the beatings, the training, the clothes, the hairstyles, this traditionalist attitude. _

_ How he envied his brother, free like a bird. A sparrow. He rejected their lot in life, and Hanzo was the one made to suffer for it. He took on this responsibility, became this figurehead so that his brother could be allowed to live as he pleased. Now they wanted to take that away too. _

_ Genji wore what he liked, went where he liked, chased after whoever he liked. Hanzo could not. He would not even be able to marry for love. The clan leaders knew of his exclusive attraction to men, and yet still they told him he would marry for politics – as each of them had before him. He would have to produce children, to continue his family name. It was his duty, his reason for being. _

_ Sent to confront his brother, Hanzo waited for him to return to the estate. Lighting the candles and incense in the family shrine, he said a prayer for their departed mother. Begging her forgiveness for never being strong enough to protect her. For never defying his upbringing. For being too weak to do so now. Footsteps crossed the tatami behind him, and he stood to face Genji. _

_ In the end, it all went wrong. _

_ He still remembered sensations – frustration, despair, unbridled rage. He’d been accused of failing both Genji and his mother, a flash of blue light and then red. Sticky, hot, his arrow piercing his brother’s chest. _

_ The sickening sound of tearing flesh where he removed the arrowhead. The cooling of Genji’s body as life left him. _

_ It was cruel, he thought, that in that moment he could see it. The green of his hair mixing with the crimson liquid already congealing. Those wide eyes, betrayed, terrified. Genji could not even speak, the blood in his throat reduced him to gurgling and choking. Hanzo had held his brother and cried. Cried until he couldn’t any more. _

_ The realization hit him that he really was alone. Nobody who loved him was left alive, all that was here for him was the life of a puppet. A life without his brother’s laughter, killed out of a jealous rage. Over something that they could have fixed together. They should have run away, long, long ago. _

_ Come morning he had to let them take the body, as if he didn’t care, he wasn’t allowed to care. However, he had made a promise in the candlelight, he would take revenge on this universe. On this clan, on the life he had been given by God – and once his work was done he would greet death with acceptance, and hope against hope that he had done enough to see Genji smile one final time. _

* * *

 

Hanzo’s stomach turned over and he found himself being sick into the sink. A shaking hand raked through his hair as the other clutched the side of the basin hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Who was the man who looked at him in the mirror? He didn’t know.

Everything he knew about how to act, who to be, had been taught to him. His personality was manufactured for the purposes of the clan. If he looked inside himself, at the end of the day, what did  _ he  _ really want?

Furiously scrubbing his nails he could still feel the memory of Genji’s blood beneath them. They would never be clean, never again.

Now he found himself inspecting the tattoo he felt he knew so well. Except he didn’t. It was strange to him now, too. A symbol of a time when his choices were not his own, yet even now he was not free. Even here, ten years later, he was not taking his chance to fix things because of the way he felt he  _ should  _ act. Walking back into the bedroom he found himself looking around at the space, feeling as if the emptiness echoed his life. His mouth still tasted like vomit, and his head was heavy.

_ I need to get out of here. Now. Somewhere. Anywhere. _

Hanzo grabbed the box of tea that Mei had put in his welcome gift and left as fast as he could.

The corridor was dim without the strip lights turned on, as very few windows let in the sunlight here. Sparing a glance to his left in the direction of Jesse’s room he thanked the heavens that the cowboy was nowhere to be seen and took a right towards the main building. It only took roughly ten minutes to reach the canteen from his room, if one took the  _ direct  _ route. Hanzo, however, rarely did.

Following a path he had not taken before, the archer found himself outdoors; a gravel track lead around a grassy area towards the main building in the distance. Satisfied, he added this place to his mental map of the facility. At first he took this area for the garden that McCree had mentioned, but soon realized that he was mistaken. By the looks of it, this place was used for sports – which suited Hanzo just fine.

Divots from where someone had kicked a ball a little too hard pock marked the turf here and there. A makeshift goal had been painted onto the grass with a spray can. The blades were slightly too long, tickling Hanzo’s ankles as he walked – nobody had played here for a while. He made a mental note to return here later and see where the open space lead to. Perhaps find the garden.

The fresh air was revitalizing, it was his choice to be here. He chose to do this. He was his own person.

As he entered the main building his apprehension grew, and he found himself clutching the box of tea tightly in his hand as though it was anchoring him to this reality. Although he knew this was something he would have to face eventually. Giving himself a mental pep talk he walked down the corridor to the final door he would have to enter through.

_ You are valuable to them. You have much to offer. _

_ If this is not reason enough, you do not have a means of boiling water in your room. You cannot sneak down here at some ridiculous hour every night. It is not proper. _

_ You cannot be alone right now. _

Nodding to himself with conviction he bid the door open and strode into the canteen.

* * *

 

McCree had barely slept at all last night, it took him so long to fall asleep only to wake up stupidly early – for him at least. It was around nine in the morning now, and he had been awake since seven. He had heard Hanzo’s footsteps down their shared corridor at roughly seven fifteen and waited for them to disappear before slinking down to wallow in a pool of coffee. He hadn’t bothered to dress properly, but the other team members were used to that by now. Maybe not to this extent, however… His pajama bottoms really  _ were  _ hideous, he recalled with some amusement having to defend them once before when he didn’t want to admit that he simply didn’t know what color they were. It begrudged him to stick with the neon yellow, hot pink and bright green patterned mess that he could now see with headache inducing clarity, but he still had nothing else to put on besides  _ real  _ clothes. What’s worse, they clashed with his black t-shirt. He sighed, swirling the coffee in his mug before allowing himself to lay down on the cool marble countertop of the kitchen island.  
  
“Are you feeling okay Jesse?” asked Mei with some concern, she was making breakfast for herself and taking advantage of the excellent internet connection in this part of the facility for a video call with Zarya. The Russian woman had yet to connect, however, due to issues on her end. “Would you like me to make you something?”

He offered her a weak smile, and a thumbs up.

“That would be just swell.”

She set a plate down in front of him, an omelet smiled back up at him – quite literally. Mei had drawn a face on it in ketchup. Then she sat herself across from him. Moments later they were joined by Lucio, who was as chipper this morning as ever.

“Yo Clint, what’s up with the face my man?” he asked, seating himself next to the cowboy. “You look burned out.”

Trying to think of a reason for his hollowed-out eyes and exhausted posture he shrugged his shoulders, prepared to lie through his teeth to keep last night’s incident from them.

Jesse had been vaguely aware of the sound of the door opening and closing, assuming it to be one of the other early birds like Lena or Angela.

“I was watching films again and the time got away from me.” he grumbled.

“Sounds like something you would do!”

“Really Jesse, you need to look after yourself more! And maybe do some washing…” Mei chimed in, concerned for her friend, as well as for those pants.

“Naw, I’m fine. Promise.”

He heard someone’s footsteps behind him, and the sound of the kettle being switched on.

“Oh!” Mei let out a squeak of surprise as she turned to look at their company, causing the two boys to whip their heads round to identify the intruder.

“Please, do not let me interrupt.” Hanzo’s cool voice floated over as he faced them, leaning against the countertop. “I do not wish to intrude.”

* * *

 

If the floor could open up and swallow him whole right now, Jesse would welcome it. Hanzo,  _ Hanzo  _ was here. In his safe spot, in public, with other team members. There was something off about him, though, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

Mei scrambled to her feet to introduce herself, bowing haphazardly.

“A-Ah, my name is Zhou, Mei-Ling!  _ Overwatch ni yokusou _ !”

Hanzo returned the gesture gracefully.

“ _ Hajimemashite. _ I am Shimada, Hanzo. I did not expect a greeting in Japanese.”   
  
He offered a smile that came out more like a grimace.

The short woman lit up at his approval, blushing furiously.

“I’m afraid you have heard most of what I know.”   
  
Nodding his understanding, Hanzo turned to pour the hot water into his cup - if only to avoid looking at them all for a moment.

“What do you prefer I call you by?” he asks, intending to be as polite as possible. They needed to like him.

“Oh, Mei is fine! Do you have a preference?”   
  
Her equally considerate question makes him start, wondering what exactly he  _ would  _ want to be called by his team members.  _ Hanzo  _ felt too familiar, but  _ Shimada  _ was...

“I would prefer my last name was used for the time being.” he decided eventually.   


“Of course, Shimada-san!”

Hanzo visibly cringed. The servants had called him Shimada-san, other clan members. He didn’t like it.

“Perhaps just Hanzo would be better.”

Lucio offered a wave from his seat next to Jesse, the archer focused on him in an attempt to forget his current train of thought. McCree was looking anywhere but at him.

“Hey ‘just Hanzo’! Nice to meet ya finally.”

Hanzo inclined his head respectfully. It was subtle.

“You are Lucio, if I am not mistaken.”

“That’s the one! Man, this must be weird for you guys huh?”

Jesse’s head snapped up, looking between Lucio and Hanzo, terrified that the archer had said something to him.

Hanzo’s shoulders tensed up, clearly wondering the same of him.

“Why’sat?” McCree all but shouted, accusatory.

“Well you’ve been talking to each other for ages but you’ve never met in person, I just figured it would be a bit strange.”   
Lucio’s expression was put-out, like a child who didn’t know what they had done to provoke their mother’s ire.

“Oh, that.” Forcing himself up off his feet he extended a hand sheepishly toward Hanzo, knowing full well that he couldn’t show himself up in front of the others. “Nice t’meet ya Hanzo. Sorta.”

The archer looked at it hesitantly for a moment, then took it in his own, the handshake was firm but Hanzo did not release his hand. Jesse could swear that the other man was shaking, but it was difficult to be sure considering his prosthetic didn’t feel the same as his own hand might. Truthfully, he didn’t want to hold Hanzo’s hand in his own. The skin on skin contact would be too much, too familiar. He didn’t want to know what it felt like, didn’t want to be able to imagine them on other parts of his body. It would be torture.

Hanzo was struggling for different reasons, Jesse’s prosthetic had thrown him off. He didn’t want to touch the cool metal, finding that his mind would wander to all the ways in which the gunslinger might have lost his original arm. He felt sick again, thinking about the way he had butchered Genji all those years ago. So much blood, bright red, hot -

“Hey, you okay pardner?” McCree’s low whisper broke him from his thoughts, it seemed that Mei and Lucio were too busy talking to one another to hear him. Jesse’s face was tight with concern, and – if Hanzo was not mistaken – anxiety. He recognized it well, it was an old friend at this point.

“Yes.” He replied, withdrawing his hand. Averting his gaze, he cleared his throat awkwardly. It was not customary for him to talk about his problems. In Japan, there was a well-known phrase.  _ Shoganai _ .  _ It can’t be helped. _ Hanzo recalled a friend once telling him that he felt that  _ shoganai _ was the only way that the native people could deal with natural disasters. If you were suffering, it couldn’t be helped, it was meant to happen that way. You did not share that suffering with other people, it was not their problem. It was disrespectful and upsetting. That was regarded as the traditional manner of conducting your life; it was minimally disruptive to other people. The archer was, however, aware that this rule did not apply to certain other cultures – one of which McCree belonged to.

Taking an interest in Jesse’s well-being would not only allow them to talk more freely, but it would enable Hanzo to ignore his own for the time being.

“Are you… well?” he asked in response.

Jesse visibly tensed.

“Yeah. I’m good.” He took a step closer, so that he could speak even more quietly. “Hey, uh, I’m sorry about everything. Can we go back to bein friends again?”

Hanzo bit his tongue.  _ Sometimes, Master Shimada, it is better to say nothing than to say what you wish. _

Before he could respond, Lucio came bounding over and slung his arm over McCree’s shoulder.

“Hey John Wayne! Hana just messaged me – she’s got a new film for us to check out before she gets dispatched tomorrow.”

Lucio reminded Hanzo of Genji in his youth. They were not dissimilar. Both endlessly optimistic, full of energy and love for life. The thought of sending the musician out on missions suddenly hung over him like a dark cloud.

It was awkwardly quiet, McCree looking anywhere but Hanzo, who stared at his head so hard it might burst from the pressure of his gaze. Eventually the taller man laughed nervously.

“Don’t suppose you wanna join us, Hanzo?” he asked, and the archer felt his temperature soar at the way he pronounced his name. The wrong syllable emphasized, an elongated ‘a’ sound. It was incorrect, but it was right.

Gesturing to the steeping cup of tea he shook his head exactly once.

“No, thank you Jesse. I am occupied.”

Letting out the breath he had been holding, McCree relaxed, but looked disappointed at the same time. Hanzo hoped that saying his name affected him just as much.

“No rush, you can come find us later – right?” Lucio chimed in, and McCree nodded, a grimace on his features. “Hana has these crazy Korean snacks!”

Hanzo offered the boy a small smile.

“I may join you. Do not wait for me, however.”

He was visibly deflated, but continued to smile nonetheless.

“You better! Come on dude, let’s blow this joint.” He began ushering McCree out of the room, who spared a final glance at Hanzo – their eyes meeting for the second time. It was electricity and poison all at once. “Catch you later Mei, say hi to Zarya!”

Mei waved after them, finally looking up from her laptop. Zarya’s face visible on the screen – though the petite girl wore her headphones so Hanzo could not hear if she responded to Lucio’s voice.

With a slight incline of his head towards the researcher he made to leave.

“Thank you for the tea.”

“My pleasure! See you soon!"

* * *

 

The three of them were sat on the bed in Hana’s room. Lucio had pushed the frame against the wall and between them they arranged the pillows and cushions to form a makeshift sofa which faced Hana’s gigantic monitor. McCree’s pulse was racing, only flesh palm sweating. Hanzo had actually come to the canteen - he looked visibly shaken up. Was that  _ his  _ fault? Did he upset the other man? Thinking about it gave him a stomach ache. He remembered a time when Reyes’ hands had shook like that, after a particularly intense argument with the Strike Commander. It hadn’t seemed like rage, though, more like -   


“So Jesse, what’s going on with you and Shimada?”   
  
Hana’s voice jolted him back to reality.  
  
“What are you on about?” he asked, feeling more and more ready to vomit.

“Uh, Lucio IMed me, you were being super awkward and weird.” she replied nonchalantly as she tapped away on her phone and held up the screen to show him the messages. Lucio smiled sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders.   


“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked. “We’re just worried about you man.”   


“Is he your guy?” Hana interjected, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.   


“W-Wha?” McCree was in full panic mode now, what the hell did they know about? He choked on his own words, trying to formulate a response.   


“Ya know, your soulmate.” She made quotation marks in the air with her fingers for the word soulmate.   


“I told y’all, I can already see colors.” he spluttered, grasping at straws to keep the lie alive.   
  
If Hana’s eyes rolled any harder, Jesse thought they might roll right out of her skull.   


“I don’t wanna call you a liar dude but…” Lucio began before the young girl interrupted him.   


“You’re a liar. Those pants are a fashion  _ disaster _ .”   


“Look, it ain’t like that it’s just…” McCree knew he was finished - damn these perceptive kids. Regardless of the fact that he knew they wouldn’t judge him he didn’t know if he was ready to talk about this. They would expect him to do something about it and he really didn’t want to.   


“Dude, you looked like a dog who spotted a steak.”   
  
Lucio’s analogy confused him momentarily.   


“What?”   


“ _ Hungry _ .” Hana elaborated.   
  
Jesse felt the blush that exploded across his face at the insinuation that statement had made. Burying his head in his hands his voice was muffled now.   


“Don’t you kids have any innocence left? So damn crass.”   


“It’s alright to be attracted to someone Jesse. We just wanna know why you ain’t doing anything about it.” Lucio pressed, putting a hand on his back and rubbing calming circles between his shoulder blades.   


“FYI he’s gonna be wanting you too.” Hana pointed out, leaning against his other side. Her weight was a comforting presence and Jesse found his heart rate slowing enough that he could attack the conversation logically.   


“I’m not so sure about that…” he ground out, feeling honest for the first time in a long while.   


“What? Butch, you’re great!” Lucio gave him a pat, and a thumbs up with his other hand. “There’s no way he wouldn’t be interested.”   
  
Jesse felt guilty about this because Hanzo  _ had  _ been interested. It wasn’t his interest or lack thereof that he worried about - it was when that interest became disappointment. When he wasn’t all that he was cracked up to be. When Hanzo realised he’d been saddled with a broken weapon. That he belonged in the trash. He needed someone to melt him down into scrap metal and make something new of him - but he doubted that the archer had ever worked with raw materials.   


“Alright, it’s complicated! I don’t expect you to get it.” he snapped defensively.   


“Oh my God. You didn’t?” Hana gasped, she and Lucio exchanged concerned glances.

“What?”

“You turned him down? That’s why he looked so pissed off!” she scowled, flicking him in the forehead.

_ Nah that’s just his face, I think.  _ Thought Jesse bitterly.  _ Or just how he feels around me. _

“I don’t wanna get my hopes up.” he admitted, leaning back with a sigh, his hands finally leaving his face to fall at his sides.

“I don’t get it.” Lucio complained.

“It’s hard, alright. Leave it. You won’t understand.” Jesse just wanted them to drop the subject, he knew it was stupid but it was real enough to him.

“Help us to understand!” Hana’s exasperated response knocked him for six.

“Yeah man, we’re your friends.”   
  
Looking between their confused faces, Jesse opened his mouth to protest but found that he couldn’t. Maybe it would be nice to tell someone for once - just a slice of it.   
  
“Alright, just, I’m not gonna be pretty if we go into this.” he warned them in preparation. “Don’t do any of that patronising comforting stuff. Just… listen to me.”   
  
They both nodded, sitting so that he had their undivided attention. Hana threw her phone away from her and switched off the monitor.   
  
Taking deep, shaky breaths Jesse began to speak, and with every sentence he felt the stress flowing out of him like smoke. He had been holding so much back for so long it was like a river bursting free from a dam. The release of pressure was incredible and unstoppable.  _ He  _ was unstoppable.

* * *

_ Sunlight cracked through the corrugated metal ceiling, waking McCree from his groggy sleep. How long had he been here, four days, five? Longer? He couldn’t remember. Counting the sunrises didn’t help because he could have slept through several without knowing. Heavy footsteps broke him from his thoughts, and a key turned in the lock. _ _   
_ _ Slowly sensations returned to him, and the weight of the chains on his hands left him uncomfortably numb. Today, however, he did not see the man he had come to expect. Two faces greeted him, a vision of darkness, dark clothes, dark hair - and a vision of light, bright smile and blond locks. Something about the man in black was more comforting to Jesse than the Nuclear Family Dad stood next to him. Familiar, and people with clean images were usually anything but. _ _   
_ _  
“Aye _ dios _ … they did a number on him for sure. Pricks.” _ _   
_ _  
“Well he is our prisoner, Reyes.” _ _   
_ _  
“Yeah but that doesn’t mean they gotta beat the shit outta him. He’s a kid.” _ _   
_ _  
Jesse resented being called a kid, who were these assholes? The man revealed as Reyes put a hand under his chin, tilting his head this way and that. Eventually he chuckled, taking a step back and lighting a cigarette. _ _   
_ _  
“So, Deadlock  _ perro _. Wanna make a deal?” _ _   
_ _  
" _ Muérdeme _.” he spat in response, Reyes laughed full-bodied and genuinely amused. _ _   
_ _  
“ _ Hablas español _ eh?  _ Estoy sorprendido _!”  turning to look at McCree, he regarded him with something akin to respect. “I like this kid.” he said to his companion, right before punching Jesse in the jaw. _ _   
_ _   
_ McCree had taken the deal, and Gabriel had mentored him through Blackwatch. The good old days.

* * *

_ Jesse wrung his hands, looking down at his serape. Red. The serape was a very startling shade of red. How did he know this? Because of Gabriel Reyes. He was no idiot, his colors hadn’t returned in their entirety - but he was starting to get glimpses now. There was only one explanation, and it wasn’t good. _ _   
_ _ Swallowing hard he quelled his anxieties for now, pushing them down deep. The middle of a mission was not the time for stupid thoughts about soulmates and love and - _ _   
_ _  
“ _ Perro _ , headed your way.” Gabriel’s voice crackled over his earpiece. Jesse nodded to himself, getting into position. _ _   
_ _  
“How many?” _ _   
_ _  
“Four.” there was a pause. “Take them all.” _ _   
_ _  
He remembered little about that incident, save for the nerves he felt when it came time to pull the trigger. His first mission with Blackwatch. Their work wasn’t pretty, they killed people who had families, friends, lovers. Sometimes it was a thin line between whether they were guilty or innocent. Other times they were only doing what they thought was right - it was just unfortunate for them that someone in Overwatch disagreed. They did the dirty jobs that the heroes couldn’t soil themselves with. The ‘heavy lifting’, Gabe called it. _ _   
_ _  
He had missed one mark, who subsequently involved himself in hand-to-hand combat with another agent. They died before he was taken out. _ _   
_ _  
Jesse had sat in the puddle of his teammate’s blood, held his hand as he bled out, and eventually Gabe’s hand settled on his shoulder. _ _   
_ _  
“I killed him.” he choked out. “If I hadn’t missed, he would be alive.” _ _   
_ _  
The comforting words he was looking for never came. _ _   
_ _  
“Yeah, probably. But he isn’t.” _ _   
_ _  
McCree continued to stare off into space, while Reyes grew increasingly impatient. _ _   
_ _  
“Kid,” he began, snapping his fingers in front of Jesse’s face to get him to look at him. “He  _ isn’t  _ okay? Nothing sitting here is gonna do about that. I shouldn’t have given you such a shit task straight off. It’s on me, let’s get out of here.” _ _   
_ _  
Reyes thought it was his fault, but it wasn’t, it was McCree’s - it was his, he caused it, he made this happen all of this blood all of this red, so much red. _ _   
_ _  
“Hey!” Gabe grabbed him by the shoulders, slapping his cheek hard. “Snap the fuck out of it,  _ perro, _ I lost one guy, don’t make me leave you here.” _ _   
_ _  
McCree mumbled something that he didn’t quite hear, so he asked him to repeat it a second time. _ _   
_ _  
“I’m covered in red.” _

* * *

_ Stupid. Stupid! Of course Gabe had realised. He wasn’t an idiot. McCree cursed himself to hell and back. As soon as he’d mentioned the red, the red that he still couldn’t wash off, that stained his hands, his skin, his mind - he had realised. An awkward conversation about colours later and Jesse was stood outside of Reyes’ office staring down at his hands. _ _   
_ _  
“Look, Jesse, kid. I dunno what’s going on in that head of yours but I gotta be perfectly clear. I’m never gonna be interested - and you gotta drop this shit.  _ ¿Lo entiendes?  _ I can’t have my men getting killed cause you got a crush on your boss.” _ _   
_ _  
Stupid. He was so stupid. _

_Strike Commander Morrison had confronted him later that day in a jealous rage. All teeth and gums, practically spitting in Jesse’s face._ _  
_ _  
“Did you honestly think you were gonna take him away from me?” It was a rhetorical question. It didn’t require an answer. Jesse said nothing, knowing that whatever he said would do nothing to assuage the other man’s rage._ _  
_ _  
“You’re just some Deadlock brat we scraped off the sidewalk and scrubbed clean. Reyes thought it was funny, that you got a little crush on him. Treated it like a fucking joke - but I’m not laughing.” his eyes bore holes into Jesse’s skull, before some kind of switch flipped inside him and he was chuckling.  
  
“Do you know what? I actually get _why _it’s funny now. ‘Cause he’d never be interested in someone like you. It’s a joke that you’d even have a chance, right? That must be it - I mean, he calls you_ kid _for fuck’s sake.”_ _  
_ _  
Stepping back, Jack seemed to breathe more easily._ _  
_ _  
“Yeah. Just a kid. A kid who can’t even aim properly.” he spoke to himself now more than Jesse, leaving him there in the corridor. He wanted to talk to Gabriel about it - but he never did. He knew why Jack had done it, he was scared, upset, insecure. But it bothered him._ _  
_ _  
Yeah. He thought to himself. Just a kid. A gunslinger who couldn’t shoot._ _  
_ _  
_ _He tried hard to forget about it, the colors drained away with each target he put down - Reyes stopped praising him in fights, they drifted apart. The father figure that Jesse felt like Gabriel had become disappeared. Eventually, he realised that this was why he had been seeing colors in the first place. Not because he was falling_ in love _with the commander, but because he felt_ loved by _him. The home he had begun to build was falling apart around him and he had nobody to blame but himself - and how could he really go to Gabriel and say ‘hey, you know you thought I had a crush on you? Nah, actually I kinda want you to be my dad’. That would go down like a lead balloon._ _  
_ _  
Then it happened. The fight, the explosion, Gabe’s mangled body too damaged for any of them to even find a trace of him. In some respects this was better, in others it was worse. They never had a chance to fix things - Reyes died thinking that McCree had been pining after him like some lost puppy._ Perro.  
 _  
Jesse, overcome with grief, had immediately left Overwatch and never looked back. Blaming himself for a lack of communication - if Reyes had still trusted him, maybe this could have been avoided. Maybe he would still be alive, maybe -_

_ It didn’t matter. _ _   
_ _  
He was dead. Just like that first mission. _   
_  
Except this time there were no colors, except the red that stained Jesse’s mind. _

* * *

 

Jesse recounted the story of his encounters with Hanzo, turning him away the first time, then his panic attack the second.

“So I just… I don’t wanna put myself out there. I’m gonna be a disappointment to him in the end. Always am.” he finished. Shaking with a mixture of rage, relief and anxiety. He felt elated and disgusted all at once and nauseous beyond belief.   
  
After a long silence, Lucio reached out a hand to touch his leg - Jesse shook his head and the boy widthdrew. He couldn’t be touched by him right now, muttering a ‘sorry’ he drew in on himself further.

“Dude. I know this isn’t gonna mean much but you have  _ gotta  _ stop thinking like that! None of that shit was your fault. So someone was shitty to you before. He’s your  _ soulmate _ .” the musician told him, face full of concern.   


“You don’t get it, the kind of pressure that puts on me!” Jesse snapped, tears threatening to form again. “If Hanzo died  _ hating  _ me like Reyes did I just…”   
  
Lucio opened his mouth to speak, but Hana interrupted him.   
  
“Jesse. What happened to you is bad. Your feelings are valid.” she began, touching him without permission, forcing him to accept her presence. It grounded him. “And I bet that’s just the start - I don’t wanna know what you did in Blackwatch.” she spared a glance at Lucio. “ _ We  _ don’t wanna know what you did in Blackwatch; but you can’t give up on being happy because of someone who isn’t even alive anymore.”   
  
Lucio nodded, tentatively placing a hand on his shoulder.   
  
“Ya know, Hanzo probably feels sorta the same.” he added. Jesse’s head snapped up to look at him. “You said he wants to jump right into it. Maybe he’s feeling insecure himself and wants to establish it before the situation can change.”   
  
Jesse considered this, and it made sense. The guy had  _ killed  _ his own  _ brother  _ for God’s sake. Then his  _ dead brother  _ had shown up as a part cyborg assassin and brought him here to work with all of them.   
  
His  _ alive dead brother. _   
  
That had to cause some issues of its own.   
  
“When it happened to us, it was a shock.” Hana started, gesturing between her and Lucio. “But we worked it out.”   
  
“Wait what?” Jesse spluttered, he had no idea they were each other’s soulmates. Nobody did. As far as he knew at least.   
  
“We didn’t say anything to anyone,” added Lucio. “Because it’s not their business - and it isn’t important.”   
  
“We’re secure in the knowledge that we  _ are  _ connected that way. We don’t have to date or do anything about it right now if we don’t want to. That connection is there, and we know it, so we just let it exist and don’t let it pressure us into doing anything we don’t want to.” Hana explained. “We’re each other’s  _ beomjoe donglyo _ \- that’s not gonna change if we wait a week or ten years.”   
  
McCree silently processed this information. The advice was sound. He didn’t have to make a decision right now - neither did Hanzo. If they were meant for each other it would stay that way. This wasn’t some half-assed beginnings of a crush, this was an instantaneous full-color awakening of some kind. It was on a totally different level to anything he’d experienced before. Which made him all the more anxious about losing it.   
  
“I’ve been a goddamn idiot.” he said eventually, sighing. “I can’t just avoid the guy forever. It ain’t fair.”   
  
Hana and Lucio both nodded enthusiastically.   
  
“I’m glad you shared with us buddy.” Lucio beamed at him, and Jesse felt something warm deep in his core. Familiarity.  _ Family. _   
  
“Alright, I’m gonna ask him to join us. Properly.”

* * *

 

Now that the hot liquid was settled in the pit of his stomach Hanzo found that his cyclic pattern of thoughts had at least stopped for a brief reprieve. Thinking on what Genji had said to him when he arrived, he decided to do as his brother requested for once and sought out the omnic monk who had become his master.   
  
They sat across from one another in silence atop a grassy hill, the shades of green vivid and intoxicating to Hanzo who was seeing them like this for the first time as the breeze moved through the blades.   
  
“Do you not have some great wisdom to impart on me?” he asked sarcastically. “A miracle to turn my life around?”   
  
Zenyatta was unperturbed, saying nothing in response. Hanzo’s temper rose.   
  
“Well?” he demanded, unable to understand why the omnic was saying nothing. His unchanging, expressionless face a further source of frustration.   
  
“You will not listen to anything I have to say today.” he replied, simply.   
  
“Oh? Are you certain?”   
  
“Yes. But to sit in silence is not a waste of our time.”   
  
Hanzo felt like tearing his hair out, so he stood as if to leave.   
  
“Perhaps you do not consider it so, but I would prefer to do something  _ productive _ .”   
  
“Healing is a long process. Are you aware that you act with too much haste, Hanzo?” he asked, causing the archer to balk.   
  
“Excuse me?”   
  
“I am aware of your unique situation.”   
  
The way he hovered slightly above the ground so calmly was almost enough to cause Hanzo to snap.   
  
“Are you, now?”   
  
“Yes. And I have only one piece of advice - you may choose whether or not to accept it.”   
  
Preparing himself for some kind of philosophical life lesson buried under layers of metaphor Hanzo rolled his eyes and sat back down.   
  
“Out with it, then.”   
  
“One must look within before they can look without. We must take time to better ourselves before we are able to help others.”   
  
The archer rose quietly, and left back down the hill. It didn’t take a genius to realise what the omnic meant. He was implying that Hanzo was incapable of sustaining a relationship until he  _ fixed  _ himself. Unfortunately, he considered himself beyond fixing. Perhaps the hope that Jesse could help him was naive, childish even. He continued to stew over this as he made his way back to the dormitory.

* * *

 

Zenyatta’s advice was not lost on Hanzo. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, the omnic was correct. He would continue to visit - convincing himself that it was for Genji.   
  
It was draining, but empowering, the thought that he might begin to talk about his own feelings and desires instead of boxing them away for the sake of others. He threw himself down onto his bed, the slacks from the morning now covered in grass stains. It smelled fresh and comforting. In the end he decided not to change - getting a slight kick out of the imperfection of it. In his days with the  _ Shimada-gumi  _ his appearance was crisp, clean and perfect at all times. Not having to wash an extra pair of pants would be nice. A smile broke out across his features at the thought of his now slightly muddy bare feet and how his father would despise it. He laughed to himself like a giddy child.   
  
His earpiece crackled, and he started. McCree’s voice came through from the other end.   
  
“Hey, Hanzo, you around?”   
  
Hanzo’s heart hammered against his ribs.   
  
“Jesse.” he responded, expecting a dismissal or something equally awful. What he got was exactly the opposite.   
  
“Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t think I came across quite right is all.”   
  
“Oh, in what way did you wish to ‘come across’?”   
  
“I would really like it if ya came to join us. The invitation was sincere.”   
  
The archer’s face must have been beet red, but Jesse had been right about one thing - he had assumed the invitation was extended out of obligation and not by a genuine desire to spend time with him.   
  
“Truly?”   
  
Jesse’s heart felt about ready to burst at the shy tone to Hanzo’s voice.   
  
“Yeah, c’mon. Block B, room 12.”   
  
“Okay.”

No sooner had McCree disconnected did Hanzo jump up from the bed and gather his things, once again rolling everything up into the centre of his bedroll. He was not sure he would need it, but it was better to be safe than sorry if they stayed late. In many ways he could be selfish, but he would not take Hana’s bed space from her.   
  
It was only once he reached the room that he realised he was still wearing his grass-stained pants, but it was too late to go back and change. He struggled for a while, undecided as to whether he should just tell Jesse that he would be later than originally planned - but surely they would want to know  _ why _ . While he was busy deliberating with himself he failed to hear the footsteps on the other side of the door and it slid open in front of him.   
  
“Oh! Hey Shimada!” Lucio almost ran directly into him. “I was just about to stick my head out and make sure you got the right room. Come on in!”   
  
Hanzo stammered, there was no way to go back and change now. Lucio grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside - he felt confused by the contact. Unsure if he was offended or if he just felt that he ought to be.   
  
Looking over at Jesse who was sat talking with Hana on their makeshift bed-cum-sofa Hanzo felt himself tense up. The gunslinger hadn’t noticed him yet, so he took a moment to appreciate him in his entirety.   
  
Scruffy in those God-awful pants, but with a happy smile plastered on his features. His hair was chocolate brown, and his beard showed no signs of greying yet. He had very much the look of a cuddly teddy-bear when he was happy like this, but Hanzo was painfully aware that he could probably look extremely intimidating if he felt like it. That was not an image he should picture. His laugh was infectious, and the archer found himself smiling, chuckling with genuine amusement at Hana’s teasing.   
  
Jesse’s eyes turned to look at him, and their world froze for a few seconds. To McCree, that genuine smile was enough to make his heart burst. He felt himself grinning in kind. 

He looked adorably disheveled, his bedroll under his arm not unlike last night. It felt strange to see him without a perfectly put together image. McCree found himself appreciating him without panic for the first time and gestured for him to join them.

“Howdy darlin.”

Hanzo inclined his head in greeting, feeling more patient than he had in a very long time. Of course he wanted to touch Jesse, he wanted to know him, to have something that was his and his alone - to claim it before it could disappear from his life. This time, however, he knew it was too soon. He knew rushing in head first was bound to end in disaster, no matter how impulsive he felt like being – and he did not know Jesse’s reasons for his apprehension. But he would not let this go. Not yet.   
  
Hana put on the video, the film was a practically ancient East-meets-West comedy called  _ Rush Hour.  _ Apparently she thought it would be funny. To her credit, it was quite amusing if a little outdated. Despite his initial distaste, Hanzo found that he was enjoying himself - at least up until a little after midnight when both Hana and Lucio had managed to fall asleep, leaving him in the sole company of Jesse.   
  
“That wasn’t a  _ complete  _ disaster.” the cowboy half-whispered, nudging Hanzo in the side with his elbow. “Think I even saw ya crack a smile.”   
  
Hanzo lifted a hand to his mouth to stifle his grin, it was perhaps one of the most elegant yet cute things McCree had ever seen. The archer’s hands were surprisingly delicate for someone in his line of work. Or what  _ was  _ his line of work.   
  
“I could say the same for you.” Hanzo responded, reaching up to punch Jesse playfully on the shoulder. It was hesitant, but a start. “Or perhaps that is the effect of good company.”   
  
The archer was itching to do something, to confirm that they were  _ something _ , even if it wasn’t quite where he wanted it to be. Trying with all his might to hold back, to respect the other man’s boundaries. It was killing him slowly. Anxiety consuming him, the thought that McCree might leave, might grow bored of their conversation the longer it went on - oh surely it would be better to kiss him and be done with it? If he could prove himself a worthwhile lover maybe the dull things he said would be enough.   
  
“Hey, I’m not goin nowhere, ya know that right?” McCree said softly, as if he was reading Hanzo’s thoughts.   
  
“What?”   
  
“What I mean is, we don’t gotta rush this. Whatever this is.”   
  
Hanzo wanted to protest, but he bit back the comments lingering on his tongue. The fact that McCree was acknowledging it at all was worth celebrating.   
  
“Then,” he began, putting a hand on Jesse’s thigh. The gunslinger tensed up. “Will you allow me to do this as is proper?”   
  
Swallowing thickly, McCree wasn’t quite sure what he meant, but in this situation - in this heat - he didn’t have it in himself to protest. Besides, something told him that Hanzo at least acknowledged that McCree wasn’t ready for anything intense right away. Or so he hoped.   
  
“Alright. Do what you gotta.”   
  
The archer smiled reassuringly, removing his hand from the other man’s thigh.   
  
“I promise, it will help me to…” he searched for the right word, suddenly very nervous despite himself. “Take it easy.” he winced a the foreign nature of the phrase, but by the tension leaving Jesse’s shoulders he knew he had said the right thing. This time the gunslinger nodded with some encouragement.   
  
“Do you know about  _ kokuhaku _ ?”   
  
The other man shook his head, giving Hanzo his undivided attention.   
  
“It means a confession. In my home country, you are not dating someone until one party has performed  _ kokuhaku _ .” he began to gesticulate more exaggeratedly, his nerves were starting to get the better of him.   
  
“Ah, not that  _ kokuhaku  _ means you are tied to that person forever it is more that -” he was cut off by McCree taking his hands in his so as to stop him waving them around and working himself up further.   
  
“S’alright. Go on.” he said reassuringly.   
  
“I would simply like to know, that you intend to court me. If that is your intent.” Hanzo’s face was redder than a tomato, and he was struggling to breathe. “Either now or in the future.”   
  
Jesse wanted to cry, this beautiful man was asking for his affections in such a sweet way. Taking account of his apprehension towards entering a relationship.   
  
“Can I answer your question with a question?” he asked, running a thumb over the back of Hanzo’s hand.   
  
“Yes.”   
  
“I ain’t ready for anythin,” he paused, wincing at the thought. “Physical right now. ‘Sides the occasional cuddle and stuff like this. So I guess my question is are you happy with dating someone like that, or do you wanna wait?”   
  
Hanzo hummed quietly, considering what McCree had said. Aware that the other man was attempting to make a compromise between the archer’s desire to start their relationship and his apprehension against doing so.   
  
“I would begin with you as you are, if you would do the same.”   
  
Jesse beamed, releasing Hanzo’s hands to attempt to cover his grin and the blush spreading across his face.   
  
“I’m sorry it’s gonna be slow, but I think I’m good with that.”   
  
“ _ Kore kara osewani narimasu. _ ” Hanzo bowed as much as their present position could allow.   
  
“I ain’t get a lick of that darlin’.”   
  
Jesse shrugged his shoulders, shifting to accommodate the other man who now sat so that he could lean against him, head on his chest.   
  
“It means, please take care of me.” he murmured, closing his eyes.   
  
“Will do, but don’t go fallin asleep on me now.”   
  
Hanzo waved a hand dismissively.   
  
“I am resting my eyes.”   
  
Not ten minutes later and he had fallen asleep. Jesse put an arm around him tentatively, nervous as all hell but comfortable with the warm weight against him. He felt like if he squeezed too hard then Hanzo might disappear. He still couldn’t bring himself to hope too much – to touch the other man in anything other than the least serious manner – but he felt content for the first time in a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anything crops up that looks like it needs fixing I will get to it ASAP but it's nearly 3am so let's get this show on the road!  
> Thanks again for all your support so far. You guys have been amazing.  
> I hope you enjoyed this installement as much as I enjoyed writing it!


End file.
